


Slowing Down the Tune

by sarahcakes613



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Developing Relationship, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27826042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahcakes613/pseuds/sarahcakes613
Summary: “I’m only two of those things right now,” he says, “and you need better friends.”Rafael’s lips curl up in a brief smile. “Like you?”“I meant what I said yesterday.” He finally comes to stand next to Rafael. “I care about you. You’re my friend. So yeah, like me. Even if you don’t need me to make grilled cheese sandwiches again.” He nudges the smaller man with his shoulder playfully. “So, what’s for dinner?”
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 57
Collections: The Leonard Cohen Files





	Slowing Down the Tune

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mgarner1227](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mgarner1227/gifts).
  * Inspired by [I live in a city sorrow built](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27109000) by [sarahcakes613](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahcakes613/pseuds/sarahcakes613). 



> So in October, I wrote a story (see link) about Sonny reaching out to comfort Rafael after his grandmother dies. M said she'd like to know what happens if Sonny returns, as he says he will at the end.   
> M also commented "I don't know how many of your fics I have read lately that have left me wanting chapter two" on one of my other stories in October, which is just one of the loveliest comments I've ever received. So, here's a chapter two, just for you.

_Let me catch my breath_  
_I thought we had all night_ \- Slow, Leonard Cohen

Sonny takes a deep breath and rings the doorbell. He squints his eyes against the setting sun as he tilts his head to look up at the windows.

“Yes?” Rafael’s voice breaks through the speaker, cautious and uncertain.

“It’s Sonny,” he says.

There’s a pause and then the buzzer clicks and he is able to enter the building.

He takes the stairs two at a time and gets to Rafael’s apartment just as he is opening the door. He’s wearing jeans and a Harvard sweater, faded and worn enough that Sonny suspects he bought it as a freshman, not an alumnus.

He stands in the doorway, one hand shoved the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie. “You came back.” He observes.

Sonny chews on his lip. “I said I would. I don’t have to, though, if you want to be alone.”

Rafael just looks at him and then backs away from the door, leaving it open for Sonny. Sonny follows him, toeing off his shoes and carrying his bag into the kitchen, where Rafael is standing in front of the stove.

“I brought a different kind of – oh.” He sets down his bag of ingredients, smaller today now that he knows Rafael has a fully stocked kitchen.

Rafael glances at him, one hand on the handle of a pan and the other holding a spatula. Sonny smells the sharp tang of onions and the warm browning of garlic.

“You’re cooking,” Sonny says, because he’s a trained detective, and nothing if not observant.

A shadow passes over Rafael's face, flitting and then gone. He looks down at the pan. “I didn’t actually expect you to come back.” He says simply, not looking up. “People usually don’t.”

“People?”

“Men,” he finally looks at Sonny. “Friends. Lovers.”

Sonny approaches Rafael slowly. He wonders how many virtual land mines are embedded in the steps between him and the other man.

“I’m only two of those things right now,” he says, “and you need better friends.”

Rafael’s lips curl up in a brief smile. “Like you?”

“I meant what I said yesterday.” He finally comes to stand next to Rafael. “I care about you. You’re my friend. So yeah, like me. Even if you don’t need me to make grilled cheese sandwiches again.” He nudges the smaller man with his shoulder playfully. “So, what’s for dinner?”

The spatula drags around the pan, working to keep the caramelizing onions from sticking.

“Breakfast burritos.” Rafael says. “She loved having breakfast for dinner, said it made her feel like she was breaking the rules.” He laughs softly.

Sonny sees the bowl of whisked eggs now, mixed up with chopped bacon and shredded cheese. Based on volume there have to be at least six or seven eggs in the bowl, more than one person would likely consume in a sitting.

“Were you planning for leftovers, or?”

Rafael shoots him a pointed look. “I said I didn’t expect you to come back, that doesn’t mean I didn’t hope.”

Sonny smiles widely, feeling a tendril of warmth curling in his stomach. “Well, I’m glad I didn’t disappoint you.”

“I don’t think you could,” Rafael replies quietly, but he is looking down at the pan again as he pours the egg mixture, and Sonny almost doesn’t catch the words.

Almost.

Rafael hands him the spatula to keep moving the eggs around as he sets out plates and toppings. There’s cheese, sliced avocado, and salsa that Sonny can tell just from the smell will be too spicy for him.

There’s a large cork trivet on the table, so Sonny carries the entire pan over and sets it down while Rafael pulls a plate of warm tortillas out of the oven.

They’re quiet as they assemble their wraps, and Sonny has to hold back a moan as he takes his first bite. Even without the salsa, there is a kick to the eggs from whatever seasoning Rafael had mixed in, and it’s skirting the edge of too hot for him until he hits a piece of avocado, and the refreshing smoothness eases the sting.

Rafael has only taken a few bites before he sets his down. His fists clench on the table and then move to his stomach, and his shoulders begin to shake.

Sonny shoots up and comes around the table to kneel next to him. “Hey, what’s going on, are you okay?”

His first thought is something is wrong with Rafael’s stomach but kneeling next to the other man and looking up into his face, he sees Barba’s eyes are wet, his cheeks streaked with tears.

“Oh,” Sonny whispers, “come here.” He wraps his arms around Rafael from the side, resting his cheek on the seated man’s ribcage. Rafael’s hands come up to clutch at his forearm and he leans over, burying his nose in Sonny’s hair as he cries.

They sit like that long enough that Sonny’s knees start to ache, but he won’t be the first to let go. Eventually the muffled sobs turn into whimpers and then hiccups as Rafael lets his emotions finally pour out of him. Sonny can’t even imagine how long he’s been holding it in, trying to be strong for Lucia.

Rafael finally pulls away with a watery laugh, sniffling as he presses the backs of his hands to his eyes.

“Wow, that’s definitely not what you came here for.” He tries to joke, but his smile is shaky and his laughter false.

Sonny doesn’t get up. “I came here for whatever you need me for,” he says softly. “And this shirt needed washing anyway.”

This time Rafael’s laugh is real, although small.

He looks steadily at Sonny, their faces inches apart. Sonny parts his lips to say something, anything, to break the silence, but Rafael cuts him off, leaning down and pressing their lips firmly together.

Sonny doesn’t move, barely even breathes, as Rafael’s warm chapped lips move against his. He responds instinctively, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, but keeping his lips mostly closed. He can feel the dampness of Rafael’s tears against his skin as their mouths move together, soft and firm and sure.

He pulls back reluctantly when he feels Rafael’s tongue flicking out, seeking entrance. “Wait,” he breathes out, “just, hang on.”

Rafael’s eyes are dark, still wet from his crying jag. He has one hand curled in Sonny’s collar, gripping the fabric so tightly the skin on his knuckles is thin and white.

“You want me,” Rafael says, his voice cracking. “I know you want me.”

“I do,” Sonny says as he gently disentangles Rafael’s hand, kissing the knuckles lightly. “But not like this. You don’t want this, not right now.”

Rafael’s face falls, the emotion dropping from his eyes and leaving them blank. “You don’t know what I want.”

“I know you want to distract yourself,” Sonny says. “I know you want to replace the pain with something that feels good. But I also know that would be a mistake, and I don’t think I could bear it if I helped you do something you’ll regret. If I became something you regret.”

Rafael shakes his head fervently. “You aren’t. You won’t be,” he says, cupping Sonny’s jaw. He kisses him once, and then pulls back with a rueful smile. “But you’re right. Not like this.”

He lets go of Sonny and scrubs his hands across his face before looking down at his plate and grimacing.

“I’m not very hungry,” he says. “I think I might just lie down for a bit.”

“That’s a good idea,” Sonny says, finally standing up, trying to ignore the cracking in his knees. “Why don’t I wrap this all up and then get out of your hair?”

Rafael catches his wrist. “Would you stay, actually? Just…just for a little while? I don’t want to be alone.”

His voice is so small, so unsure, so unlike his normal brassy self.

“Yeah, Rafael, of course.” He urges him to stay seated while he pokes around for plastic containers and foil. Once everything is in the fridge, he lets Rafael lead him to the bedroom.

Rafael disappears into his bathroom for a moment, re-emerging in a pair of sweatpants. He climbs into the bed, burying himself under layers of blankets, and then flips them open on the other side for Sonny.

He slides in next to Rafael and stays relaxed while his limbs are rearranged to Barba’s satisfaction. Eventually they are curled up together, Sonny sitting upright with Rafael’s head on his chest. He has one hand behind Rafael’s shoulders and he idly draws figure-eights up and down his arm and back.

They don’t talk, just quietly share space, and Sonny’s hand makes its way up to the point of Rafael’s ear, tracing it. Rafael tenses up briefly and then relaxes when Sonny makes no further move.

“Thank you for being here.” Rafael whispers into Sonny’s shirt.

Sonny wants to remind him one more time that there is literally nowhere else he’d rather be, but he doesn’t. He just holds Rafael a little tighter.


End file.
